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Broken Warriors


Fox1990

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Fresh blood is spilt under the glowing moon.

Another night of suffering has come to meet my dreams.

Living dead in a world of black and white is so tiring.

I'm stuck in the shades of gray.

The beautiful light is not an option.

The tears can't explain the devastation in past scenes.

Enemies align.

I fall.

I'll pick myself up and face the burning sun;

somebody has to lead the pack of broken warriors,

kids of sin and doubt.

Screaming drowns the sarrow I drag behind me so well.

We can survive this.

Imagine the day of redemption.

Unity; our common breath.

Judgemental hearts, hard fists, colliding passion;

it's the burning sun.

Anxious outbursts is waiting in our fingertips.

The story of who we are can't be told.

If only they could see where we've been,

the wars we fought so unwillingly.

Scars and bleeding can absorb only so many emotions.

We are equipped with weapons of words and black anger.

Crashing condemnations is the fight within us.

Giving up peacefully is not a phrase in our vocabulary.

Battle wounds fresh, ragged breathing, tragic faces stained;

broken warriors.

We could be so beautiful,

it's all in the burning sun.

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